


Let Love Conquer Your Mind, Warrior

by atrilial



Series: Outlander Zalith Universe [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars: The Old Republic, swtor - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Job, Caretaking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, KOTET Spoilers, Knights of the Eternal Throne Spoilers, Knights of the Fallen Empire Spoilers, KotFE spoilers, Meme, Self-Harm, Smut, Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, dad malavai, dad quinn, prompts, silliness, update 5.2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrilial/pseuds/atrilial
Summary: An assortment of prompt responses for Malavai Quinn and my Sith Warrior Zalith Drurteg. Reordered into chronological order.*Chapter 5 is the newest addition*





	1. An Off Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Zalith recruits Quinn on Balmorra. May or may not be canon to her actual story.

Groaning, Zalith slowly surfaced from the deep sleep she’d dropped into the moment her head hit the pillow the night before. Balmorra had been a long slog across pockmarked terrain: smoky, dusty, constant booming of artillery. Her head was pounding by the time they boarded the ship, new crew member in tow. Her eyes felt glued together - probably all the dust she hadn’t taken the time to wash off before she fell onto her bed.

Yawning, she nearly choked on fluff. Delightful. Another pillow to replace. She must have fallen asleep with her face in the pillow, instead of on her back like she normally slept. As a result, her horns tore the fabric apart, again. She would hear no end of this from Vette, no doubt.

Sighing, Zalith sat up, taking stock of the mess. Well, at least TwoVee would have something to do this morning. Sliding on the pair of slippers by the bed, Zalith stood, stretched, and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Lovely…

There was fluff stuck on one of her horns, hair glued to the side of her face were she had apparently drooled into her mutilated pillow, and the remainder of her short locks stood up in every direction, aided by the matted sweat and grease from failing to take a shower after tromping across half a planet doing Baras’ dirty work.

Normally, she was a morning person, but apparently not today. Cafe, that’s what was needed. Then, perhaps, she could think straight. She was about to shuffle out into the lounge area, when she stopped short. Right. They had a new crew member.

Captain Malavai Quinn seemed a very put together, respectable sort of person. While, she preferred not to give Vette more fodder for wicked humor, she was not beyond nursing a cafe in her sleepwear on occasion, to the twi'lek’s amusement. Vette, usually had the sense to keep her mouth shut, at least until Zalith was in a more amicable mood. The Captain, however, she wanted to respect her. Stumbling out, unwashed, in bland grey sleepwear, was hardly a step in that direction.

Pragmatically, she needed him to respect her if they were to work well together. Quinn seemed like he could be a tremendous asset under the right leadership. And she intended to be the right leadership.

Aside from that, however, she wanted to look good for him for entirely baser reasons. He was mature, attractive, and she had seen a glimpse of passion in him on their first meeting that stirred her. Besides, his awkward reactions to her blunt flirtations were greatly entertaining.

Resigned that cafe would have to wait, she made her way into the refresher instead. The hot water was luxurious, making her feel more like herself in minutes. Yes, this was better than cafe anyway.

When she emerged from the refresher a short while later, she could hear raised voices outside her door. Well, that didn’t take long. Quickly, she donned a crimson robe that managed to be elegant and professional, while also being comfortable and pragmatic. Looking in the mirror, she decided she looked sufficiently Sith, without donning her full armor, complete with cape and giant shoulder boards. She brushed her hair, slipped on a pair of soft boots, and stepped out of the room. Whether to play audience or intervener, she hadn’t decided yet.


	2. The Inevitable Trapped in a Snowstorm Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zalith and Quinn are trapped in a snowstorm on Hoth.

“My lord, I believe it would be prudent to seek shelter,” the muffled voice of Zalith’s captain was barely audible over the increasing howl of the wind. Icy crystals bit at the small strip of exposed flesh around her eyes. Her eye mask had been rendered essentially useless as the flakes stuck to it, growing into a blinding haze across the lens. Removing her mask was little improvement, as the ice stung her eyes and froze to her lashes. Hoth was a miserable planet.

When they had set out this morning, she had laughed at Quinn’s grumblings about the cold, instead reveling in the austere beauty of the place. Sharp peaks glistened in the sun and the blue of the sky was all the more vivid in contrast to the great swaths of pristine white beneath. Magnificent beasts lumbered in herds across the landscape, making the scene almost pastoral.

It had clearly all been a cruel trick to lull her into a sense of complacency. She suspected if Quinn hadn’t been every bit as miserable as her, he would be insufferably smug.

“Agreed,” Zalith shouted back, voice similarly muffled by the scarf wrapped over her nose and mouth. “Suggestions?” Quinn closed the few feet between them, no doubt in an effort to ease communication.

“I recall seeing a small medical outpost, not long before the storm started. I believe I can get us back to it,” Quinn said thoughtfully, leaning close to speak near her ear. She nodded, and he turned to lead the way. Impulsively, she reached forward and clasped his heavily gloved hand in her own. He nearly jumped out of his snowsuit, and she chuckled despite her agitation with the weather. He looked back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“My lord?” he asked, voice just a little too high. Zalith noticed, however, that he didn’t pull his hand away.

“To avoid getting separated, Captain,” Zalith explained and was amused to see his shoulders relax at the pragmatic explanation. “In this weather, even a few steps of distance could cause us to lose track of each other,” she added, unnecessarily. She did not add that even should that happen, she had no doubt she would be able to use the Force to locate him. Eyes were not the only way to see.

“Of course, my lord. Follow me,” Quinn said perfunctorily.

It felt like an eternity - though Zalith doubted it was truly more than fifteen minutes - before they found the medical outpost. The droid manning the post seemed utterly unaffected by the blizzard and chirped a standard greeting as they shuffled past him into the small emergency shelter.

The space was snug and spartan, with the distinct smell of antiseptic and standard Imperial cleaner, but it was equipped with all the basic amenities for multiple personnel to survive an extended period of time if necessary. Quinn had released her hand and was already fiddling with the comm, doubtless to inform their team back on the Fury that they were safe from the storm.

As he relayed the message to an exuberantly relieved Vette, Zalith set about removing the several layers of soaked fabric sticking to her chilled skin. She could channel the Force to stave off the effects of the cold, but it was a waste of energy when unnecessary. She had stripped down to her underwear when Quinn finally succeeded in getting Vette off the line.

He turned to face Zalith and startled, heated gaze locking onto her and sweeping over her curves briefly before he seemed to become aware of himself. His eyes darted away to focus on something behind her, his expression somewhat aghast at her state of undress, or perhaps at his own reaction to it. He had grown hyperaware of her since she had made her interest clear some weeks ago, much to Zalith’s amusement. Even now she fought and failed to hide a grin at his nervous energy. Smile growing, she gestured at him, waving her hand at his own sopping gear.

“You may wish to remove your garments as well, Captain, unless you don’t mind losing a few toes,” she suggested. Several emotions played across his face: confusion, embarrassment, and eventually understanding and chagrin. Sighing, he nodded, and began to stiffly remove his cold weather gear.

Taking pity on him, Zalith turned away, seeking out spare clothing in one of the closets built into the wall. There were several sets of one-size-fits-all thermal wear stacked in neat folds. She pulled out two, and chucked one at him behind her back.

A surprised squeak followed by a banging sound had her turning around. The scene before her made her immediately explode with laughter. She had managed to throw the thermal wear right into Quinn’s face, just as he was attempting to removing his soaked pants from around his ankles. He had lost his balance and toppled, knocking over a chair in the process. And so he sat, on the floor in naught but his boxers and socks, thermal wear covering his face, pants around his ankles. The one ear poking out from the fabric was tinged red, a sure sign he was blushing. If Zalith was a better person, she would attempt to refrain from laughing at his expense. She found she had no such restraint at the moment.

Quinn huffed, pulling the thermal wear off his head. He was, indeed, blushing. “My lord, please.” He sounded so utterly exasperated, she burst into laughter anew. She bent at the waist, gripping her side, tears forming in her eyes. She was bordering on hysterical now, most likely a result of finally being out of that blasted storm.

Quinn rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and focused on removing his pants and socks. He pulled his thermal wear on as Zalith fought to regain control of herself. She suspected she saw a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he turned away to place his clothing into the drying unit, but she couldn’t be sure. After a minute or two, Zalith had reined in her amusement enough to don her own thermal wear before tossing her clothes in with his.

“What are the odds this facility has anything to eat besides standard military rations?” Zalith asked, rifling through one of the drawers, only to find several metallic packets of the bland nourishment provided courtesy of the Imperial military.

“I would say a near zero percent chance, my lord,” Quinn said, voice droll. Trust Quinn to actually provide the odds. Zalith snorted, then pulled out a packet with resignation. The side read Nerf Steak with Gravy. From experience, Zalith knew it tasted more akin to allacrete in sludge. Quinn reached a hand toward her, palm flat, an expectant look on his face.

“If I may, my lord?”

Curious, Zalith handed him the packet and watched with fascination as he pulled several small canisters out of his rucksack. He retrieved a small pot out of a drawer and placed it on the solitary hot plate he’d unearthed from the back of a cabinet. With deft movements, he empty three packets of military rations into the pot, several pinches of what she deduced were spices from the canisters he’d brought, as well as two cup fulls of water. Several minutes later, the concoction was bubbling cheerfully and a pleasant aroma filled the small room. Zalith grinned, inhaling deeply.

“Quinn, you’re a miracle worker,” she insisted.

“I aim to please, my lord,” he said mildly, but he stood a little straighter, eyes lighting up at her praise. As he divided the stew into two portions, he added, “It is a skill I learned at the Academy. Unless one was inclined to develop an iron stomach, we learned to adapt the food so it was not completely repellant to anyone with functioning taste buds.”

Zalith chuckled, turning to pull down the table and benches folded into the wall, making a makeshift dining area. With a nod, she took the bowl he handed to her and sat across from him at the table. It was so small, their knees brushed against each other, sending a small thrill through Zalith. Quinn flushed but said nothing, choosing to feign ignorance.

“Does that mean Pierce knows this trick as well?” she asked, lifting the spoon to her lips. It was no delicacy, but the play of spices managed to give the lackluster protein a pleasant kick. It was edible, even comforting: hot and filling.

“I suspect Pierce elected to take the iron stomach route. The dredge he eats is nauseating to say the least,” Quinn said with a grimace before taking a bite of his own stew.

They sat in pleasant silence for several minutes, enjoying the simple pleasure of decent food, a warm environment, and the casual brush of their legs against each other every time one of them shifted. After a while, Quinn huffed and Zalith looked at him, brow raised.

“I am merely exasperated with the turn of the weather. It has delayed our mission significantly. At least if we were back at the base, I could be making progress on other work, but the reception here is spotty at best.”

Zalith’s lips twitched with mirth. “An occasional break from work is not a bad thing, Captain. You could do to loosen up a bit.”

Quinn gave her a flat look. “My lord, if you will forgive my bluntness, now is hardly the time for recreation. We are within reach of accomplishing all Darth Baras has been building up to for months.”

“I understand your eagerness. I too would like to see the last of these Republic annoyances finally put in their place. But we may as well make the most of this forced respite while we can,” Zalith suggested.

“As you say, my lord,” Quinn conceded, clearly unconvinced. Smirking at a new idea coming to life in her mind, she leaned forward, setting her arms on the table and closing the distance between them. Quinn’s nerves spiked as he watched her warily. He relaxed after a moment as it became apparent she was only changing position. Grinning, she looked at him intently.

“I suppose you could be accomplishing a great deal more if you were back on the ship right now,” she mulled casually.

“Indeed,” Quinn agreed.

“Perhaps I should have brought Jaesa with me instead,” she said, feigning thoughtfulness. Quinn sighed.

“She was certainly far more eager to accompany you to this wretched place,” Quinn said in a voice that bordered on a whine. Suppressing a smile, Zalith continued.

“You failed to mention Pierce. He was also excited at the prospect of assisting me,” she remarked innocently. Quinn scowled.

“I do not trust the Lieutenant’s motivations,” Quinn said in a clipped, professional tone.

“Are you jealous, Quinn?” Zalith teased, watching with amusement as his eye twitched briefly.

“Hardly,” Quinn answered coolly. “There is nothing to be jealous of. I simply believe his motives are inappropriate for a man in his position.”

“And your motives are entirely pure, Captain?” Zalith asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“I am focused on the task at hand, my lord.” Quinn answered. However, she noticed the way his eyes suddenly dropped to her lips, only scant inches from his. Zalith was sorely tempted to close the gap, but no. Their first kiss needed to be initiated by him. She had to know he really wanted this. She would not force the issue. After a long moment he looked away, swallowing reflexively.

He stood suddenly, clearing their eating utensils from the table. Zalith ignored the stab of disappointment and rose to fold the table and benches back into the wall. With that accomplished, she walked over to one of the terminals and pulled up a view of the outside. Little more than white showed on the monitor.

“It appears the storm has yet to run its course, Captain,” Zalith said, pointing to the haze on the monitor before switching it off.

“In that case, perhaps it is best if we attempt to sleep while we have to opportunity,” Quinn suggested. Zalith nodded in agreement, and Quinn set about pulling cots out of the wall-space.


	3. We Need to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Quinncident. Angst. Confrontation. Not sure if this will be part of Zalith’s canon or not, but I thought I’d share.

Zalith stood in the refresher staring unseeingly at the mirror. They had survived Corellia. All the pieces were in place. All that was left was to make the trip back to Korriban and finally confront Baras.

The Fury and its crew were now five days into what looked to be about a month long trip through hyperspace. Normally, she enjoyed these long spaces between planets when everything narrowed down to just her and the Fury and its crew. They all had hobbies, work to do, and they were familiar with each others’ routines. Events, competitions, and activities were all common elements. There were of course the inevitable confrontations that came from some many strong personalities living in each others pockets for so long, but usually that just added some excitement to the day to day. Hyperspace travel allowed time to process, debrief and recover from everything that happened on missions.

This time, there was too much to process; no amount of debriefing would set things right. Zalith was numb, removed, watching her life from a distance. She knew the others were tense, worried, on edge. This was unsustainable.

She didn’t know how to set this right.

Her toes were numb, and her legs tingled uncomfortably. How long had she been standing here? The reflection blinking back at her looked little different than before, yet somehow seemed hollow.

A beeping resounded through the small space.

Shaking her head, Zalith shrugged on a robe and walked to the panel by the door. Jaesa stood outside, waiting patiently. Zalith sighed, brushed a hand through her hair and straightened her posture. With the press of a button, the door slide open.

“You wish to speak with me, Jaesa?” Zalith asked, trying to project her usual air of confidence. Zalith was supposed to be training Jaesa, guiding her. Lately, she had been failing utterly in that.

Jaesa inhaled, steeling herself, and stood taller. “Yes Master, may we speak in private?”

Zalith stood aside, beckoning her apprentice to enter. Jaesa stepped through the door, and Zalith closed it behind her. Zalith moved to take a seat, gesturing for her apprentice to do the same. Her apprentice was much too well mannered to sit while her master stood.

With a gesture, Zalith said, “By all means, share what is on your mind.”

Zalith had her suspicions, but waited to see what Jaesa would say.

“Master, for sometime now I have noticed that you are suppressing your emotions, blocking them out of your mind,” Jaesa explained, then added in a rush, “I wasn’t attempting to pry, but it has been too apparent to ignore.”

Zalith released a breath, leaning back in her seat. But Jaesa pressed on. “The Jedi, of course regularly channel the Force this way. But - forgive me master if I am overstepping - but you are not trained in that method. You require emotions to be at your peak…”

Jaesa paused, clearly worried she’d gone too far. Zalith placated her.

“I always value your insight, Jaesa. You are correct. I have been suppressing my emotions. I suspect you wish to propose a solution?” Zalith asked. Jaesa nodded.

“Yes master, I have two possible solutions,” she clarified. “Either, I could give you some advice on how to better utilize the Force without emotions, or you will need to confront whatever it is that you are avoiding.”

A clanging resounded through the room, causing both Zalith and Jaesa to startle. A grate had fallen out of the ceiling in the corner of the room and a familiar blue form dropped in on top of it.

“Vette, dropping into the private chambers of a Sith conversing with her apprentice is usually an excellent way to get oneself killed,” Zalith observed blandly.

“How…What…What were you even doing up there?” Jaesa asked, gaping.

“I noticed you going to talk, and was worried you’d make a mess of it. Good thing I was listening in too,” Vette sighed in exasperation, before bending down to pick up the grate. Zalith and Jaesa both watched in bemusement as Vette climbed onto Zalith’s high end nightstand, balancing precariously as she put the grate back in place.

“There, all fixed,” Vette said with satisfaction, brushing her hands clean. She jumped off the nightstand and turned back to face the others. “If only everything was so easy to fix,” the Twi’lek added, looking at Zalith pointedly.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” Zalith said, with no real heat. Vette just grinned in response.

Jaesa frowned in realization. “What did you mean, I’m making a mess of it?”

Vette plopped down on the end of the bed, sitting between Zalith and her apprentice. “You’re going about this all wrong. This isn’t some head problem you can just solve away. It’s the heart. And heart means talking,” Vette stated matter-of-fact. She looked pointedly at Zalith. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but you have to talk to Captain Sad-eyes.”

Zalith started to protest, but Vette cut her off. “I’m not saying you have to make up or anything. Maybe if I knew what happened,” Vette said, staring intently at Zalith, “I could offer better advice.”

When Zalith offered no details, Vette rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “As it is, all I can say is, you two definitely have to talk. If you don’t, everyone on this ship is going to go crazy way before we reach Korriban, and Baras won’t even have to kill us,” Vette said, making an exaggerated grimace. “I’d personally prefer we stay sane and kill Darth Fatso.”

Exhaling, Zalith leaned forward, rubbing her hands over her face. A pair of warm arms wrapped around her, and Zalith looked up, eyes wide. Vette bumped her head affectionately against Zalith’s, wincing slightly when she caught the point of a horn.

“You’re the best, crazy Sith big sister I’ve ever had,” Vette said, playful but sincere. “Whatever happens, you aren’t alone.”

Jaesa’s hand settled on Zalith’s knee, and Zalith looked up from it to find Jaesa had moved from her chair to kneel in front of Zalith. “We’re both here for you, Master. Over these last two years, you have become more family to me than mine ever was. I’ll support you in whatever way I can,” Jaesa promised.

Zalith ducked her head, feeling a stinging sensation at the edges of her eyes and a tightness in her throat. The sudden physical affection was almost overwhelming. The tightness in her throat spread to her chest as she realized the last affectionate touch she’d received came from Quinn over a month ago, not long before everything fell apart. She squeezed her eyes tightly, inhaling a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, barely able to manage that. Swallowing, she took a deep breath and collected herself. Looking up at the two women who had become the most unlikely of sisters to her, Zalith added, a little watery, “That means more to me than you can know.”

She placed one hand on Jaesa’s and the other on the arm Vette had wrapped around Zalith’s necked. She squeezed, offering a quivering smile to the girls. They stayed that way for a little longer, until eventually Jaesa returned to her seat, grimacing at the change of position. Vette gave Zalith one more squeeze before sitting back on the bed.

“So, I think, after you have some face to face time with Captain Frowny, we should have a girls’ night,” Vette grinned, lightening the mood effortlessly. “I found this great holovid. It’s stupid and hilarious and perfect. We can gorge on snacks, maybe get a little drunk. It’ll be fun!”

“I’ll pass on getting drunk,” Zalith chuckled half-heartedly, “but I look forward to a girls’ night. Your holovids are always very…enlightening.” When she smiled now, it was a little closer to heartfelt. “Will you join us Jaesa?”

“Happily,” Jaesa said, pleasantly. “I will also pass on the drinking, however.”

Vette made a face. “Spoilsports. One of these days, I’ll get you drunk.”

“You have been trying for three years, but by all means, continue,” Zalith smirked. “Your efforts are amusing, if unsuccessful.”

“Ugh!” Vette huffed, throwing her hands in the air. Standing up, she stretched and added, “I’ll go start making preparations. Meet back here after dinner?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Zalith agreed. Jaesa nodded agreement as well, as she also stood.

“In the meanwhile, I am going to meditate and work through a few of those saber forms you showed me, Master,” Jaesa said.

The girls left and the door slid shut behind them. In their absence, the room felt oppressively quiet. All of the warmth and lightheartedness seemed to follow them out.

Zalith sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling. She counted the panels, all nine of them, six times before finding the resolve to stand and make good on her promise to seek out Quinn.

But before that, she needed to clean up. She had no desire to reveal how vulnerable he had made her. She would look nothing short of perfect and in control.

After a quick shower, she wrestled over whether to don her armor, seeking the powerful comfort of it. No, she never wore armor on the ship. Wearing it now would be too obvious. Instead, she donned an attractive, but conservative gown. It often made her feel strong and elegant, but would not send a message that she was re-initiating their old flirtations.

She left the room and barely made it two steps out before Pierce stepped into her path. Agitated at being sidetracked from her resolve, she stared up at the soldier.

“Have you something to say, Lieutenant?” she asked, a hard edge creeping into her voice. He looked surprised, but strangely relieved.

“Well, you’re in better spirits,” he observed. At her glare, he got to the point. “Right. Don’t know what’s goin’ on with the Cap’n. Don’t want to know. But whatever it is is gonna get us killed if you step into the Dark Council like how you were on Corellia. No disrespect milord, but fix it. Or I will. All I wanted to say.”

And just as abruptly, he walked away. Most Sith would kill him for such a speech. Normally, she would at least call him out for such blatant disrespect. She didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with Pierce as well as Quinn today.

Inhaling deeply, she continued on her trajectory. Steeling herself, she strode into the bridge. Quinn’s jacket lay over the back of the navigator’s chair, and the man himself knelt next to an exposed panel, tool in hand as he adjusted the wiring. As she walked in, he looked up, and his eyes widened. He stood abruptly, running a hand through his sweat streaked hair briefly to clear his face before standing at a crisp attention that was an odd contrast to his rumpled shirt and grease stained hands.

She knew it made him uncomfortable to be so relatively undressed during important conversations, despite the job occasionally requiring it. Knowing he was off balance was perhaps just a bit too satisfying. Vindictively, she let him stand in silence for a moment before addressing him.

“At ease, Captain.” She said crisply, and he shifted automatically into parade rest. Before, he had reached a point where he would easily transition to a casual stance when she indicated the formality was not necessary. Apparently that casualness was gone. It was right, of course. He had no place assuming they could go back to the relaxed exchange that used to exist between them.

It shouldn’t sting.

“We are long overdue a conversation, I believe,” she began. The edge of his eye twitched slightly and his shoulders tensed, but he said nothing. She suspected he wouldn’t speak unless she asked him. Her chest tightened, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. She wondered, briefly, who would break first. She had no intention of it being her. “If you have something you would care to say, please speak,” she said, her tone cold.

The barest trace of a frown creased Quinn’s brow. He straighten, looking at her squarely. “Yes, my lord. I would like to request that if you intend to replace me that you allow me to begin seeking out a replacement medic for the Fury. I can have them awaiting your arrival on Korriban, if that would be sufficient.”

Zalith had to fight to contain her shock. Of all the things she had imagined him saying, this had not been one. Carefully measuring her words, she replied evenly, “You wish me to…replace you?”

“You require a medical officer that you trust to attend you,” he stated as if reading a memorandum. “As I no longer qualify, it would be ideal for you to have a replacement ready when you go to confront Darth Baras.”

She stared at him for a long moment, studying his face, trying to decipher what he was thinking, what he was feeling beneath that placid mask. Nothing. She could read nothing. The Force provided no more clarity. He was the same tangle of guilt, anxiousness and decisiveness that he had been since the Transponder Station. Her frustration bubbled, and beneath it, she could feel something darker, consuming and ravenous.

“When did I suggest I wish to replace you?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“As you have not made use of my medical training in over a month, I assumed you would wish to seek out someone on whom you can rely,” Quinn answered.

Zalith stepped forward, her hand cutting through the air, causing the Captain to shift uncomfortably, eyes widening. “You are in no place to make assumptions, Captain.”

Something flickered across his face, but she couldn’t decipher it before he looked away, out into the stars, collecting himself. “Of course, my lord. Forgive my presumption.”

She could feel her anger awakening, numb and buried for so long, it now twitched to life inside her, seeking release. “Do you think some unknown medical officer would be sufficient? Are you so easy to replace?” she asked, bitter and hard.

Quinn look back at her, surprise evident, before he schooled his features once more. “Medical training is the most urgent need. The rest of the crew is more than capable of filling in my other tasks in the meanwhile if you wish to find a more capable replacement. Vette can pilot and manage the technical needs, as she did before my arrival, the lieutenant is a sufficient tactician and leader, and your apprentice is more than capable of managing the organization and form requirements,” Quinn listed off. Zalith wondered just how much thought he’d put into this. But he wasn’t done. “If, however, you require a more substantial replacement sooner, I shall endeavour to have one prepared by our arrival on Korriban. Or if you are uncomfortable with me selecting my own replacement, I can provide a list of necessary qualifications.”

“So that’s it?” Zalith asked. “A few forms, and you disappear?”

He inhaled and met her eyes. “If that is your wish, my lord,” he said, so damn controlled. Usually she admired that about him. Now it just infuriated her.

“You think it’s so easy? The sum total of your value here is a checklist of skills?” Zalith fumed. “Perhaps we left so little a mark in your life, but you entangled yourself quite completely with ours.” With mine. He had the decency to look somewhat abashed. Gathering herself, she waved a hand dismissively. “Regardless, I have no intention of dismissing you.”

Quinn’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Very well, my lord. I request a transfer.”

“Denied,” she snapped.

Finally, finally, emotion flashed in his eyes. Anger. She could feel it rising in him. Good.

“Why? I am only holding you back,” he said, voice sharp, eyes hard. “You cannot afford that during your confrontation with Darth Baras.”

How _dare_ he? She lunged into his personal space, but he didn’t flinch, simply met her glare for glare. She snarled at him, voice dripping with bitterness and sarcasm, “Yes, I know how highly you rate my skills.”

He snapped, closing the gap, arms hovering is if he wished to grab her and shake her, glaring down at her as he all but shouted, “Damn it! I refuse to stand by and watch you kill yourself!”

“Oh, is that a job you reserve for yourself?” Zalith seethed.

Quinn recoiled as if slapped. He stepped back, deflating, looking away. He looked so vulnerable. She refused to feel sympathy for him.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said softly, no longer meeting her eyes. “I overstepped.”

Zalith’s anger twisted into something heavy and bitter, the energy that had so empowered her now consumed and out of reach. She turned, pacing a few steps away, hands clenching and unclenching, before she turned to look at him once more. His head was lowered, shoulders sagging beneath some unseen burden.

Breathing deeply, she forced out the question eating away at her. “Do you truly wish to leave?” she asked, voice steady and even.

His head jerked up at the question, eyes searching her face. She kept her expression carefully controlled. He had to decide for himself if this is what he wanted. If he truly wished to leave, she would not hold him back.

After a moment, she could see the resolve in his eyes. She prepared herself for his answer.

“No, my lord,” he said decisively, though his tone was still subdued. “If you do not wish to replace me, then I do not wish to go.”

Some of the tension coiled inside her released. It was not quite what she had hoped, but it was better than she feared.

“I have never wanted you to go, Quinn,” she said, quietly. The use of his name caused him to flinch, eyes pained. Good. Her eyes narrowed at him as she added, “Though you seem determined to try to leave.”

And with that, she turned and walked out. Just as the door begin to close behind her, she looked back. Quinn had slumped to the floor, back against the wall, head buried in his hands against his knees, fingers pulling at his hair.

She ignored the twisting in her chest and left. She needed to channel these feelings into something useful before she did something she’d regret.


	4. ‘We’re actually being kind of silly for once’ kiss (Zalith/Malavai)

They were asleep. They were both finally, mercifully asleep. Zalith couldn’t remember the last time she and Malavai had managed to get both of the twins down at the same time. Of course, she and memory only had a passing acquaintance of late.

In fact, the only thing she seemed to remember was the blasted song she and Malavai had just spent the last hour singing softly over Addy and Ally’s cribs. No. No, she wasn’t thinking about that anymore. They were free, and they were going to take advantage of it.

They both desperately needed sleep, but she missed affection and warm kisses and the utterly relaxed feeling that came from good sex. Right now, she’d just settle for okay sex. Really any touch that was more than passing a screaming baby between them or leaning on each other in an effort to stay standing.

The ship was quiet as she made her way from the room they’d turned into an on-ship nursery. The crew had been warned to keep the volume down on pain of death. Even Vette took the warning to heart. Zalith wondered if that was because her sleep deprived face looked so terrifying, or because Vette was just as burnt out on caring for the twins.

Slipping into her quarters, she slid the door closed behind her and turned to face her husband. He sat on the end of the bed, already half asleep and tilting precariously. She pulled off her shoes, and quietly undressed. She knelt in front of Malavai and her hand on his thigh had him snapping awake. He blinked dazedly for a moment before his eyes focused on Zalith.

He tried for a teasing smile, and settled for a weary one, running his hands over her bare shoulders. He bent forward, tipping her chin up to kiss her lightly.

“How is it we are together all throughout the day, and yet I missed you?” he asked softly, hand returning to smooth down her shoulders to her arms, tracing idly over the swirling array of tattoos.

“Hmmm,” Zalith murmured her agreement, words beyond her at the moment.

Malavai removed his hands from her skin to make quick work of his jacket, overshirt, and undershirt. Why he bothered with some many layers, when they were constantly needing to be replaced due to unsavory stains, she couldn’t understand. She supposed by now it was mostly habit. Or perhaps he felt it was one of the few elements of his life he had control over these days. She wondered if he even knew the answer. She supposed it didn’t really matter.

As he removed his multiple shirts, she began work on the zipper of his pants. There were no guarantees the girls would stay asleep long. The wisest course of action was to move quickly.

As she pulled his pants down his legs, she decided she may as well make the most of her current position. Leaning forward, she took him in her mouth, earning a surprised gasp from Malavai. One hand tangled in her hair, while he used the other to support himself on the bed.

She slid her tongue over him, circling the top, and wrapping her mouth around him again, pulling him deep. He panted, hand grasping uselessly in her hair.

“ _Oh_ , my love,” he groaned.

She hummed, pleased. Unbidden, she continued humming, as she moved, sucking, gliding.

Suddenly, he was shaking in her mouth. And not in a way she had anticipated. Looking up at him in surprise, she realized he was laughing. His hand was pressed against his side, expression a confused mix of lust, pain, and hilarity.

“ _What_?” she asked, baffled.

“Do you know what you were humming?” he gasped out, as she sat back on her heels, looking at him as though he’d gone mad.

“Humming?” she repeated, brow furrowing as she tried to remember. No avail. She looked back to him for the answer. After a moment, he reined in his laughter enough to explain.

“You were humming that blasted song we’ve been singing nearly nonstop to the girls,” he said, before collapsing in laughter anew. This time, however, she was laughing right along with him. Pressing her face to his thigh, she gasped helplessly, body shaking.

“Stars, we will never be free,” she groaned out once the laughter grew less intense.

Resigned, Malavai slid off the bed, to sit beside her on the floor, chuckling as he pressed his lips briefly to hers. Even as he kissed her, his breath came out in puffs against her lips, laughter still shaking him.


	5. Checking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn/Zalith short. Takes place on Rishi in between missions.

While the others gathered around the table, Malavai moved to the door, nodding his head slightly when his wife caught his eye. Moments later, she followed him out into the hall, removing her ventilator in the process. Malavai pulled out his holocom, and almost immediately, Vette popped up in the pale blue of the digital light.

“Hey! Look who it is girls. I told you mommy and daddy would call to say goodnight,” the twi’lek smiled, beckoning off screen. Suddenly, Vette vanished, replaced by two much smaller forms. Big blue eyes poked out of wild black hair on faces identical in all but expression: one exuberant, one overly serious.

“Papa! Papa, guess what I did?!” Aloria shouted at the screen.

“No, me first,” pouted Addy, voice quieter, but no less forceful.

Zalith laughed softly from her position at his side.

“Girls, take turns,” Malavai said sternly. Alora grinned victoriously, while Addy’s eyes filled with tears. Her father was not swayed. He was far too familiar with his little lady’s attempts at manipulation.

“So, so, so, I made the chairs dance, papa!” the wild two-year-old enthused. Zalith was not the least perturbed at being overlooked. She’d expressed in the past that she enjoyed his interactions with their children far too much to resent their obvious favoritism.

“Did you now?” Malavai answered, voice carefully neutral. He could just imagine the chaos. How much sugar was Vette feeding them? “Did you help Vette put them back when you were done?”

“Yes!” Alora assured, but he could hear Vette’s snort off screen, contradicting his daughter. Before he could address it, however, Addy drew the focus back to her.

“I counted to a hundred!” She boasted, smiling with pride.

“Can you show us how?” His wife chimed into the conversation. Addy nodded fervently before demonstrating.

“One, Two, Three, Four, Six, Nine, Twenty, One Hundred!” She announced. Zalith chuckled.

“You’re making progress,” she ensured the toddler charitably. Malavai preferred not to use false praise, but he supposed this was true enough. Besides, he was not in the habit of contradicting his wife, certainly not outside a private setting. He had no desire to undermine her in front of the girls.

“It’s time to go to bed now,” he told the girls, and they sighed heavily. “Listen to Vette. Mama and Papa will call again later.”

“Goodnight, girls,” Zalith cooed in a voice reserved for the twins. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama, Papa,” the girls chimed in unison.

“Sleep well,” Malavai added gently, then ended the call. The hall was significantly darker without the blue glow of the holocomm.

“It’s so strange,” Zalith said quietly, drawing his attention. “They are so loud, always into everything. Utterly exhausting in a way going to war never was. I always feel a bit relieved to leave for a mission. The quiet, the normalcy of it.” Her eyes looked off into nothingness, brow furrowed in thought. “And yet, I miss them terribly every time.”

Malavai nodded, wrapping an arm around his wife, and resting his head against her hair, carefully so as to avoid her horns. “I have experienced similar conflicting emotions,” he assured her, voice soft. The sounds of the others echoed out into the hall. Sighing, he pulled away.

“Shall we return, my love?” He asked, looking down at his wife’s soft expression. This was a side of the feared Emperor’s Wrath most would never see. The honor was not lost on him. Her expression morphed, turning mischievous, and before he could question it, she twined her hands into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him down for a heated kiss. He barely had a chance to respond before it ended as abruptly as it started. Smirking, she sauntered off to rejoin the others.

Malavai sighed, straightening his hair and watching his wife’s swaying hips.

“Minx,” he chuckled, stepping quickly to join her and the others.


	6. Gone Too Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the intermission between KotFE and KotET. Zalith is reunited with her daughters.

Zalith stood near the landing zone of Odessen headquarters. She was in full armor, but she’d left her ventilator behind for the day. Her cape fell imposingly, highlighting impeccable posture. She stood in a wide, relaxed stance, arms crossed, eyes scanning the horizon. To most in the bay, her manner seemed much as it always did: intimidating, self-confident, radiating power. To Lana, however, Zalith was radiating something quite different. Indeed, she’d never seen the Darth, previously the Wrath of the Empire, so nervous. Lana couldn’t recall offhand if she had ever seen Zalith nervous at all.

Lana had been surprised when Zalith had approached her earlier this morning and asked Lana to accompany her to the bay. Few were aware of the nature of those scheduled to arrive today, but Lana was one of the small number who did. She had been surprised Zalith would want company. She was well aware that the other Sith was reserved and private about her personal affairs. Lana was now beginning to understand that she was there for emotional support. It was not a role in which she had much practice. Nonetheless, she had a great deal of respect for Zalith, called her friend for many years now. Zalith had a small inner circle of trusted friends, and Lana was honored to be counted among them.

The sleek luxury shuttle, a favorite among the upper echelons of the Sith, appeared on the horizon, rapidly approaching. Zalith’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. In a matter of minutes, ground crew was shuffling about, guiding the shuttle in, beginning post-landing procedures. The ramp whirred, and slowly lowered. Silhouetted at the top of the ramp was a tall, curvy woman, hair piled high in an elaborate bun.

The figure moved, hips swaying, heeled shoes adding inches to the woman’s height and sending a resounding clack throughout the bay with each step. As the figure moved out of the back-light, her dress was revealed to be crimson and skin tight to the hips, before falling away, one long leg flashing red skin through the hip high slit. The top of the gown was sheer, trimmed in black and only covered the minimum of what modesty required, revealing a swirl of black tattoos on her arms and chest. As the woman’s face came into view, intense gold eyes locked with Lana’s for a heartstopping moment, before sliding away to looked over Zalith instead.

Darth Vadroa Drurteg radiated power and seduction. It was thrilling and a little terrifying. Lana couldn’t help but wonder if she would have such a commanding presence at nearly sixty. Would Zalith?

“It’s lovely to see you again, my dear,” Vadroa purred, gliding across the gap to plant a brief kiss on her daughter’s cheek. “Truly, the Empire has been poorer for the loss of you. Both of you,” Vadroa insisted, smiling charmingly at Lana. Lana nodded, appreciative of the acknowledgement.

“Indeed, it has been too long, mother,” Zalith replied, voice as cool and assured as ever. Still, that nervous energy radiated under the surface. “I appreciated receiving your correspondence.”

“Yes, of course. But let us move on. It is not me you are anxious to see after all,” Vadroa smiled. Clapping her hands briskly, she called back to the ship in a voice that was not overly loud, but carried nonetheless. Lana’s eyes turned to the ramp once more, where two much smaller figures had appeared. “Come along, girls. Don’t be shy. Come greet your mother.”

Lana watched the girl’s close the gap with interest. She knew of Zalith’s daughters, of course, but she had never meet them in person. They were eight, now, if Lana was remembering correctly. It had been nearly six years since Zalith had seen them. Lana couldn’t imagine what must be going through the other woman’s mind.

One girl immediately moved forward, already projecting every bit of the self assurance so characteristic of her mother. She glared at her mother, almost challenging, as she closed the distance. Then she stood beside her grandmother, arms crossed, hip cocked, chin up, as if daring her mother. To what, Lana wasn’t entirely certain.

The other girl followed more slowly, face a serene mask, eyes alert, taking in everything around her. She came to stand a little behind her sister and mother, clearly content to let her twin take the lead. Some might think the girl shy, but Lana suspected that watchful was a more apt description.

The girls were as alike in appearance as they were different in personality. They both strongly resembled their Imperial father, with no sign of the Zabrak blood of their mother and grandmother. Their black hair was swept back and piled on their heads in a style reminiscent of their grandmother. And while their blue eyes lacked the red ring around the outside of the iris that their mother had, they were no less piercing for it.

“Greet your mother, girls,” Vadroa repeated, looking down at the children with a pleased smile. Lana watched with surprise as the girls curtsied as one. She was aware that many of the old, noble houses raised their children to be formal with their parents, but she somehow hadn’t expected it of Zalith’s daughters. The few times she had overheard holocalls between the family, they had seemed warm and affectionate. Of course, the children had been toddlers then. Much had changed.

“It’s a pleasure, mother,” the watchful girl - Additha, if Lana recalled correctly - said softly, as she rose. The other girl, Aloria, looked as if the curtsy physically hurt her, a show of humility she loathed, perhaps. Aloria looked defiantly at her mother.

For the first time in Lana’s memory, Zalith seemed at a loss. Her arms had uncrossed, but she seemed unsure what to do with them. The silence grew, tension thick, as Zalith stared to the girls, her expression revealing nothing.

A high-pitched shriek shattered the tense air and a blue blur launched itself at the girls. Vette. Lana was torn between a smile and a sigh of exasperation, a common feeling around the twi’lek.

“Addy! Ally! I missed you so much,” Vette shouted, quite unnecessarily, as she had one arm wrapped around each girl. The girls looked surprised for a brief moment before smiling and returning the hug. Vadroa was also smiling, though with a distinctly patronizing air.

Vette’s loud arrival had drawn attention to the group and people were beginning to pause at their work, hovering around the edges to watch the spectacle. Lana decided it was a good time to intervene.

“My lord, shall we show you to where you and the girls will be staying?” Lana asked Vadroa, beckoning further into the compound. Vadroa took in the gathering crowd with an amused smile before nodding in understanding.

“Yes, I’m sure that would be excellent,” Vodroa concurred, looking to her daughter. “Shall we?”

Zalith seemed to snap back to reality, looking at her mother as if almost surprised to see her there, before remembering herself. “Yes, yes, of course. We were able to shift things around so that you and the girls have rooms adjacent to mine.”

Vette grinned brightly, standing, and arm draped over each girl. Additha seemed to welcome the affection, while Aloria looked torn between wanting it, and wanting to look confident and grown up.

“My room is right next to you too,” Vette winked down at the young pair. “We can have sleepovers! Stay up late! It’ll be fun,” Vette enthused. “Assuming Ms. Spoil-sport doesn’t bust up the party with something boring, like bedtime,” she whispered theatrically to them, sticking out her tongue and grimacing. Aloria laughed despite herself and Additha chuckled. Lana wondered if Vette was referring to Zalith or Vadroa.


	7. Out of Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Minor Spoilers for Update 5.2. Also minor self-harm.

Empress Acina had built quite a grand building as the seat of her throne, demonstrating all the power of the Sith Empire. Voices echoed in the main hall - decorated in tapestries and crimson rugs - as diplomats and Sith lords discussed business in hushed tones. Quinn stood in the shadows of an adjacent hall, heart in his throat. His hand clench in a fist making the material of his glove stretch uncomfortably over his knuckles.

Familiar voices rose above the others, and Quinn’s breathing sped up. He recognized Lord Beniko’s voice, as well as that of the SIS agent Shan. It had been ages since he last heard those voices, but they stood out in his memory, wrapped up as they were with events that had changed the course of history, and certainly the course of his life. Lorman’s whining voice set Quinn’s teeth on edge. He clenched his jaw, resisting the sudden urge to strangle the man.

That thought disappeared in a flash as another voice, smooth and commanding rose above the others. Stars, it was real. His _wife_ was here and _alive_. Her voice wound through him, soothing and twisting in equal measure. All he had to do now was step into the hall.

Yet he stood transfixed. Because no matter how desperately he wanted her, no matter how many years (6 years, 1 week, and 2 days) that he had dreamed of this reunion, he couldn’t bring himself to close the gap. What right did he have? She was a leader of armies, a hero to the entire galaxy. She had always been so far above him, but now she seemed utterly beyond his reach. He had wasted away in a prison for years, accomplished nothing.

She had stepped into his line of sight now, and he couldn’t breath. She was so beautiful. She hadn’t age a day. Powerful, confident, stunning beyond words. Beniko and Shan followed her attentatively, talking strategy. That had been his job, once. Had someone filled the other roles he’d had in her life? The thought sent his stomach pitching and made his knees give just a little. He set his hand against the cold wall to steady himself.

This wasn’t a new thought. He wondered more than once if someone was comforting her in his place while he stared at the lifeless walls of his cell. It was laughable, really, to think that she would wait for him. She was at the prime of life and more influential than ever. He was old with a lackluster career. He wasn’t even a good father. He’d charged stubbornly ahead until it got him a cell, leaving his - their - children without either parent. Of course she would move on to someone more appropriate. Kriff, why had he come?

She continued down the hall to meet with the Empress and was soon out of his sight.

Coward.

Fool.

Quinn squeezed his fists so tight they shook as he fought back the stinging that burned his eyes. He had made his choice. There was nothing left for him here. He turned and nearly stumbled. He paused, collected himself, and walked back out into a Dromund Kaas storm.

He blinked with surprise when he realized he was standing in front of his door. He couldn’t even recall the trip. He fumbled with his passcode, and the door whirred open. Stepping into the dimly lit room, he watched the storm rage against the transparisteel windows. The lightning threw the sparse trappings into stark relief.

This room was little better than his cell. It was never meant to be permanent, just a transitory place to sleep until he could rejoin his wife. Looking around, he realized this place was now home. Except he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had left home back at the palace.

Numbly, he crossed the room the the refresher, tossing his clothes on a chair. Normally, he would be appalled to leave them to wrinkle like that, but at the moment, he couldn’t drum up the energy to care. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water burn down his chilled skin.

The gaping pit in his stomach slowly won out over the numbness and rose like a wave to swallow him. His back hit the cold tile, and he slid down the wall, gasping for air as his shoulders shook in racking sobs. He sat in the shower with the water flowing over him and buried his face in his hands, pulling at his hair.

_Damn. Damn!_

He lashed out, his knuckles cracking painfully against the hard, slick wall. He hit it again, and again, until he was quite certain his bones were fractured. Somehow, the pain seemed easier to manage than this suffocating hole inside him.

_Go back, go back!_ a part of him screamed.

_Too late, much too late,_ he answered it. _Always too late._

Coward.

Fool.


	8. Welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn returns after nearly seven years of separation. Smut, Fluff, Care-taking, and bit of angst.

“I love you, Malavai. I always have, and I always will,” Zalith said softly, in an echo of her earlier assurances, caressing her husband’s face. He leaned his cheek against her hand, eyes closing against the surge of emotion she stirred in him. He was so blissfully happy, a feeling that had become so alien to him, it frightened him in its intensity. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all going to be ripped away from him at any moment, and that thought left him breathless and nauseous. He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing himself to be in the moment and enjoy this happiness for however long it lasted.

“Clearly,” his wife continued, in her low, soothing voice, thumb stroking over the stubble on his jaw, “I have done a poor job of showing you how very loved you are. I intend to remedy that.”

Now he did open his eyes, looking at her curiously. Her smile was gentle, breathtaking, and a little sad. It made his chest tight, and he reached up to mirror her gesture, cupping her face in his hand, tracing over the tattoos there gently. She closed her eyes briefly, humming contentedly into the caress. After a moment, she opened her eyes, catching his hand in hers. He looked at her askance.

“Now that we have some privacy,” she said, indicating to her room - their room - onboard the ship as they made the return trip from Iokath to Odessen, “I intend to pamper you.” He opened his mouth to protest that it wasn’t necessary, but she cut him off. “Hush. I want to do this. Let me?” she asked, as though he could deny her anything.

He nodded and she smiled a brighter smile this time. His breath caught in his throat. So lovely. She laced her fingers intimately around his, then pulled him slowly forward, walking backwards as she guided him towards the bed. Settling her hands on his shoulders, she pressed lightly, encouraging him to sit. He did as she wanted, sitting on the end of the bed and looking up at her, noting how her eyes skimmed over him, assessing.

He found himself feeling self-conscious under her gaze. He was neither as young nor as fit as he had once been. He knew he was thinner than he should be. But she said nothing, simply placed a breath of a kiss on his forehead, before kneeling in front of him.

He inhaled sharply, seeing her there at his feet. There was a sort of perverseness to it. Her, an Empress now, kneeling at the feet of a man who had accomplished less than nothing with his life. He had the urge to tell her to stop, that this was far more than he deserved. But he held his tongue, and let her continue. Though he couldn’t comprehend it, he wouldn’t argue her choice.

Her hand slid slowly over his calf, smooth against the fabric of his pants. She reached the back of his knee, fingers trailing in barely-there touches, making his heart race. Then her hand traveled back down, lifting his leg as she went, until the back of his ankle rested in her palm, and she began carefully working off his boot.

He cringed when she pulled it off. He hadn’t had an opportunity to wash yet since they boarded the ship, and it had been a busy day. She seemed unfazed however, setting it aside, before pulling his sock off and tossing it aside. Her thumbs pressed into the arch of his foot, and he didn’t realize how much they ached until he groaned embarrassingly in response. A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she said nothing, continuing in her ministrations, rolling his ankle in her palm, firmly squeezing the ball of his foot. Slowly, the ache lessened to a pleasant release of tension. She set his foot down gently, then turned to repeat this process on the other foot.

He was struck by her tenderness, her humble, focused attention that was so much at odds with the face she wore to the rest of the world. Out there, she was confident, proud, sure of herself, and rarely showed weakness, either physically or emotionally, to the extent many thought her cold. That anyone could think this passionate woman was cold baffled him, but then she had always been softer, more intimate behind closed doors. Though, never to this extent. Had his absence truly impacted her so strongly? It seemed unfathomable. Selfishly, a small part of him was grateful for the idea that she had not been unaffected by their years apart.

She set his other foot down, and smoothed her hands up his legs to his knees, pushing them slowly apart so she could shuffle forward. She ran her hands in small circles up his thighs, causing his breathing to speed up. She was close enough now, that she pressed against him as her hands traveled up his stomach, his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. She pulled him down for a frustratingly brief kiss, before she pulled away and began working on the clasps of his jacket.

Her skilled fingers made quick work of it, and he was more than happy to let the constricting uniform slide off his arms onto the bed, his button up shirt not far behind it. With a small laugh, she pulled off the sleeveless shirt he wore under those. He knew it had always amused and aggravated her that he wore so many layers, but it was regulation. Although, he supposed that no longer applied. Did her Alliance have uniforms? He’d have to ask later.

For the moment, he was far more interested in the small, open mouth kisses she was trailing over his newly exposed skin. If she noticed how much thinner he was than before, she had the grace not to say anything. Rather, she ran her nails featherlight down his sides, making his skin prickle and shudder. He sighed, weaving his hands into her silky dark locks, careful to avoid her horns.

Zalith began work on his belt next, deftly undoing the buckle and sliding the belt off him in one long, smooth pull. His breath hitched when her hands settled on his pants with teasing little movements that had his hands clenching around her hair. She smirked in earnest at that, then rose to her feet. He released her hair as she stood, his hands falling to her hips instead. He didn’t fail to notice that he was mostly undressed, and she had yet to remove a single piece of her clothing.

She seemed to have the same thought, because she stepped back and with practiced ease removed her numerous pieces of armor, setting them carefully aside in a pile to be dealt with later. Soon she was down to her underarmor, leggings and an undershirt that she left on for the time being. She stepped back to him, taking his hands in hers and pulling him to his feet.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders again, apparently content to let him hold her for the moment.

“I love you,” he whispered, bending down just enough to press his lips to hers. Her fingers danced over the back of his neck, sending a shudder of pleasure down his spine, as her mouth opened to his with a quiet moan. Her tongue darted out to trace teasingly over his lips, and he chuckled against her mouth before chasing her tongue with his. He slide one hand down her back, over her rear and down to her thigh, cupping the back of it to pull her closer to him. 

With a little hum of pleasure, she broke away to catch her breath, and he took the opportunity to plant kisses along her jaw and over the shell of her ear, causing her to arch into his hold. It was gratifying to know some things hadn’t changed. He traced his tongue lightly over the edge of her ear, then pulled her earlobe into his mouth, scraping it gently with his teeth. Just as he knew she would, she went nearly limb in his arms, head tipped back as her breath came out in short bursts.

He was content to continue on well remembered paths, but after a moment, she collected herself and pulled away just enough to stop him. His brows pinched in concern, wondering if he’d done something wrong, but she just grinned up at him with eyes that were slightly unfocused. So damn beautiful.

“If you keep doing that, I am going to forget my plan,” she purred up at him, tsking in playful chastisement. “I said I intend to pamper you, and I have only just started. I will not let you derail me so easily.”

There was a sparkle of challenge in her eyes, and he was tempted to test her, to see if he could indeed distract her from her course. But he decided against it. This was important to her, even if he thought it unnecessary.

Her arms fell from his neck, hands travelling down his skin until they came to the place where his hands settled on her. She took his hands back into hers and pulled him after her, into the refresher. She turned on the water - it shouldn’t surprise him that she would eschew the space-saving sonic shower - and while it warmed up, she turned her focus back to the remainder of his clothing.

Quinn traced his fingers over the swirling tattoos on her arms as she made quick work of the snaps. In a fluid move, she pulled his pants and underwear down, dropping to her knees in front of him again as she followed the last of his clothing down his legs. At her beckoning, he stepped out of the pile of clothing, feeling a little ridiculous. But she smiled up at him from where she knelt, and his heart thundered in his chest. Kriff, she needed to stop doing that.

His stunning wife planted kisses over his thighs, then kissed a trail up his hips. She stood slowly, kissing his stomach, making it clench and flutter. He traced his hands mindlessly over her shoulders, down her back, following the patterns etched in her skin. She continued kissing her way up, her calloused hands following her mouth, running over the sparse hair on his chest, pulling a gasped from him when she kissed along his collarbone and up his neck.

He was about to help her out of the rest of her clothes, but she kissed him lightly and pushed him gently under the water, before quickly stripping and stepping in to join him. It was not a large shower, so by necessity they pressed against each other. Having her - warm, soft skin over durasteel - pressed all along the length of his body was pure bliss. It had been years since he’d received even a kind touch. This complete immersion in affectionate contact was heady - a little overwhelming - but he wouldn’t trade it for the galaxy.

She grabbed something from behind him, and by the click of a bottle opening he surmised it was shampoo or bodywash. Then a crisp, woodsy smell filled the room, a familiar scent. It took him a moment to put his finger on it, but when he did, his eyes widened, and he looked down at his wife in surprise.

“Why do you have my shampoo?” he asked and watched in awe as she flushed and laughed, a little too high, a little too fast. She looked away, her smile suddenly shy.

After a moment, she shrugged and found her voice, “I missed you,” she answered simply.

Until this moment, he wasn’t sure he’d believed her. He thought perhaps now that he was back, she had missed his company in retrospect. He hadn’t really thought she’d actively longed for him, sought reminders of his presence the same way he had of her. But here was physical evidence against his doubts.

In his stunned silence, she began to massage the shampoo into his hair. He caught her hand, stopping her and looking her in the eyes intently.

“Really,” he said, his voice a little gruff, “you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said, fondness in her eyes and voice that made his heart squeeze painfully. “I want to.”

His throat was too tight to argue, and she continued to rub the suds into his hair with small circles, nails scraping softly against his scalp. She hummed quietly to herself as she kneaded the back of his neck, then pressed her thumbs in firm, soothing movements along his temples. He could feel tension easing from his body, leaving him weak in the knees. He leaned back against the shower wall, watching the hot water cascade down her skin in small rivulets. After a moment, he let his head drop back against the cool tile, closing his eyes and concentrating on the purposeful pressure of her hands on his head, his neck, his shoulders.

He was nearly asleep on his feet when he realized the water was turning cool. It took some effort to open his eyes. He took in the sight of Zalith rinsing the suds out of her own hair, the tiny bubbles rushing down her curves, the swell of her breasts, her wide hips and muscular thighs. She could kill a man with those thighs. In fact, she had on more than one occasion.

He laughed at the incongruous thought, earning a raised brow from her. He shook his head with a small smile, and she let it go, helping him rinse the last of the shampoo out of his hair before she turned off the water. She stepped out and retrieved a towel, wrapping it around herself, before grabbing a second and dropping it over his head.

He huffed a quiet chuckle as his vision was obscured. Before he could remove it, her hands settled on his head and began drying his hair in a manner reminiscent of the many times they’d both done this for their daughters. Stars, he missed his girls. How would they react to his return? Had they missed him? Did they even remember him?

He blinked as the towel came off his head as she continued drying him off. Deciding that if she would insist on doing everything for him then he may as well return the gesture, he grabbed another towel from the shelf behind her and carefully dried her hair. It snagged on her horns for a moment, making her laugh, but he freed them and made certain to keep the towel farther back to prevent it doing so again.

Once they were both relatively dry, she pulled him into a slow, languorous kiss. Backing away, she led him out of the refresher and back to the bed. A playful smirk lit up her face as she turned him and pushed against his shoulders, causing the backs of his knees to hit the bed, sending him sprawling onto his back in the soft, cool fabric. She stood at the end of the bed, eyes shining with mirth as she let them travel the length of his body. He reached out a hand to her, beckoning her to join him, but she shook her head with a mischievous smile.

Instead, she traced her fingertips down his shin, over the top of his foot, the sensation making it twitch. She ran her finger down the bottom of his foot, then cupped his heel, lifting his leg. She pressed soft kisses to the pad of his foot, then trailed her tongue lightly over his toes, taking his big toe into her mouth and scraping gently. This was entirely new, and he wouldn’t have expected to like it, but it sent sparks up his leg. He lay back, releasing a drawn out sigh as she showered one foot and then the other with surprisingly erotic affection. This woman was going to be the death of him.

Apparently satisfied, she began trailing kisses up the inside of his ankle then his calf, stroking the sensitive skin on the back of his knee with the callouses of her fingers. He moaned softly as she continued up, kissing along the inside of his thigh. Her tongue traced light lines over his skin, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. Frustratingly and predictably, she passed over that area, and started back on the ankle of his other leg, repeating her delightfully tortuous journey. Mouth and tongue left his skin oversensitive as she traveled from ankle to calf to knee to thigh.

He thought she might gratify him this time, but instead, she surprised him by stepping away and walking around the bed. He could feel the mattress shift as she climbed in above him. He craned his neck to look up at her and watch her settled with her legs crossed and back against the headboard. She crooked her finger, beckoning him.

“Lay your head in my lap,” she said quietly. He rolled over and crawled up to her, earning a sultry laugh that burned under his skin as much as her caresses. Her position was more than a little provocative, with her legs spread and leaving nothing to the imagination. He had a brief flash of burying his head there and making her scream. She seemed to guess at his thoughts though, because she sent him a warning, if playful, look. So he complied, and lay on his back, settling his head on her legs. Grinning, she leaned forward, giving him an awkward upside down kiss that was nearly smothering. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. She sat back upright, and he inhaled deeply.

Her fingers went to his temples, pressing is soothing circles much like she’d done in the shower. From this angle, he could clearly see her pale blue eyes watching him with a look of such intensity that after a moment he had to blink and look away, feeling his throat grow tight again. He reached up and caught one of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“I love you,” he said again, though it was little more than a whisper.

She turned her hand in his and lifted it to place a soft kiss on the back of his hand. Her other hand left his temple. Slowly, she began massaging his hand in hers, pressing against his palm then twining her fingers with his and rolling his wrist in gentle motions.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” she said softly, eyes focused on her task. “You are one of the bravest men I have ever met.”

He couldn’t stop himself from snorting derisively.

Undeterred, she said, “You are. Time and again you have stood up for what you believe in, even when your opponents were far stronger than you. Even when it personally cost you dearly.”

“I think most would call that stupidity. Or foolhardiness,” he said, bitterly.

Zalith set his hand on his chest and switched to the other before speaking. “Well, most would be wrong. It is a trait I have always admired in you.”

He was about to point out that that very trait had led to him betraying her all those years ago, but once again, she was ahead of him and cut him off.

“Yes, even then, Malavai,” she insisted, and his mouth clicked shut audibly. He stared up at her, brows furrowed in disbelief, but she kept her focus on his hand in hers. “I was hurt and heartbroken, but even then I admired your willingness to commit to your beliefs, not matter what it might cost you.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. She seemed to be content to let the discussion lull for the moment. Without the distraction of conversation, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that he was laying in the lap of his stunningly beautiful, _naked_ wife, who he hadn’t made love to in well over six years.

Whether she sensed his arousal or simply noticed more physical indicators of it, she chuckled quietly. Lifting his head in her hands, she scooted out from under him, letting his head fall back on a pillow instead. She crawled around to hover over him, and he reached out to drawn her closer. Pulling her down so she lay half on his chest, their lips met, softly at first. She tipped his head back, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed over her back, her rear, her thighs. She used one of her hands for better leverage while the other twined in his hair.

After a long moment, she broke away to trail kisses down his jaw to his ear.

“You know what I have always found incredibly sexy?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” was the most intelligible sound he could summon up as her tongue teased along the ridges of his ear.

“Your smug satisfaction,” she purred, her hot breath on his skin sending sparks of pleasure through him, “when you have an enemy cornered.”

“Ha!” he huffed a laugh. “Truly?”

“Mmm,” she confirmed, kissing her way down his neck. “I love that haughty little smirk you get when you’ve outsmarted someone, when all your plans fall into place.”

“A rarer and rarer occurrence,” he said, but the edge to his words was significantly soften by the breathy voice he said them with.

“I love how brilliant you are,” she murmured against his chest, kissing his skin after each word. “I love how you see what I miss. How you make up for my weaknesses.”

“Rubbish,” he muttered, twisting his hands in her hair as she flicked her tongue over his nipple. “You have done quite well without me.”

She puffed out a burst of hot air against his skin, with a sound that was distinctly frustrated, before suddenly sitting back on her heels.

“It took multiple people to fill the gap of strategic planning that you left, and none of them know me or my weaknesses as well as you.”

He was tempted to tell her that was because he had given her an object lesson in not letting people too close, but she was already irritated, so he refrained. She was apparently still unsatisfied, because she grabbed his hand with a serious look on her face. His brows furrowed in confusion as she placed it under her right breast. His fingers traced a rough, circular patch of skin, and his eyes widened as he realized what he was feeling. Sitting up, he traced his hand down her back again, remembering something he hadn’t given much thought earlier. As he’d suspected, there was a matching scar beneath his fingers, likely obscured from view by the tattoos on her back.

He could picture it in his mind, where the lightsaber entered and where it exited. The image made him ill, but worse still, he knew that would have done significant damage to her lung and likely no small amount of damage to one of her hearts. His hands shook as his mind provided - unasked - the odds of her surviving such an injury.

“How…?” he couldn’t even finished the thought, but she didn’t need him to.

“Our beloved _Emperor_ ,” she said with a disdain he could tell had only intensified since he had seen it on Ziost, “saw fit to keep me alive, for his own purposes.”

He exhaled sharply, feeling like he’d been sucker-punched. His head dropped forward to rest on her chest as he trembled, attempting to wrestle back control of himself. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pressing her close. How many times would he come to the razor's edge of losing her?

“Sssh,” she cooed, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

She swayed as she held him. When had she learned how to comfort? It was a relatively new skill; he knew that much.

“Forgive me,” she said with genuine chagrin. “I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like that. That was cruel.”

He shook his head against her skin. It was hardly her fault the last several years had made him so fragile. He loathed the weakness, while being simultaneously resigned to it.

After a few minutes, he could breath normally again, and the tremors had stopped. He kissed her collarbone, then began trailing kisses up her neck. As he straightened, he realized how stiff his back was. He twisted, trying to relieve the pressure. Her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Let me,” she said, gesturing to the bed. “Lay on your stomach.”

He did as she requested. Once he was settled, she straddled his back, and began kneading around his shoulder blades and down his spine. Her bare skin against his, her thighs against his sides, her feet brushing against his legs as she worked the knots out of his back was amazingly intimate. She worked for several minutes on his lower back as he groaned in a mix of pain and pleasure. He let out a slightly humiliating yelp when she cheekily began massaging his rear. She laughed, but didn’t stop.

Her fingers traced teasing lines along the sensitive crease where his thigh met his rear. He moaned into the blanket as the caress shot like fire through him. Only half aware he was doing it, he ground himself against the bed. It wasn’t remotely satisfying, but her touch was maddening. She trailed her hands down the backs of his thighs to the spot she’d discovered behind his knee, then kissed her way from there back up his thigh, to dance her tongue along that crease at the top. Stars, he wanted her.

With a soft tap, she got his attention, and helped him roll to his back. She trailed her tongue along the cut of his hip, her free hand sliding over his lower stomach, making him tremble for an entirely different reason. Her mouth kissed lower. He thought if she persisted in teasing him, he might change his mind and put an end to this game. Then all at once, she took him in her mouth, and he groaned loudly at the fleeting relief.

She trailed her tongue down the underside of him, then back up to circle around his tip before dipping to take him fully into her mouth again. She shifted her position so she could lay along his leg and rest her head on his stomach as her hot mouth slid up and down in slow, deliberate moves. He carded his hands through her hair, ignoring the slight prick of one of her horns against his stomach. The overwhelming pleasure easily overcame the minor discomfort.

Her hand alternated between stroking him and tracing circles on the inside of his thigh. His hands fisted in the sheets as he panted. Kriff, he wasn’t going to last long at this rate. By now he was so overwrought and oversensitive that he was rapidly approaching the edge.

She stopped, and he couldn’t decide if he was grateful. But the urgency had barely subsided when she rose and straddled him, hips settling sweetly against his. He rocked against her, begging silently for her to let him enter her. With a breathless laugh, she took him in her hand and slid down onto him.

“Kriff,” Quinn moaned. Stars, she was perfect. Glorious wet heat that wrapped around him and drove everything else from his mind. Zalith leaned forward, pressing her chest to his and resting her weight on her elbows at either side of his head. As a result, her face was inches from his, and her fingers caressed the back of his head as she rolled slowly against him.

“You, Malavai Quinn,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to each of his eyelids with a tenderness that made him lightheaded, “you are very _dearly_ loved.”

He couldn’t decide if his shallow breathing was the result of her body rocking against his or the gut wrenching sincerity in her whispered words. His eyes met hers, and the emotion he saw there was so overwhelming it was a struggle not the look away.

“You are a brave man,” she insisted, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “A brilliant man,” she said, kissing his other check. “A handsome man,” she purred, smirking as she kissed his nose.

Her hips pressed against his, and his hands trailed down her back to grab her ample rear and push firmly into her. Her breath hitched, and she ground against him. It took her a moment to recover her voice, her gaze a bit unfocused, a thin sheen of sweat shimmering on her skin. Her head dropped to his shoulder and she pressed a kiss there.

She kissed her way up to his ear, pressing her mouth against it as she continued to speak. “You are a _good_ man. A good husband. A good father.”

Stars, he couldn’t _breath_. She was unraveling him piece by piece. Physically. Emotionally. And he wanted to believe her. And he _couldn’t_ believe her. But she spoke with such unwavering _certainty_.

His arms wrapped around her and held her tightly to him as they rocked together, not an inch of space between them. He buried his head in her neck, eyes squeezed shut against the sting. Some part of him still expected to wake from this. To find himself back in that hellish, empty existence. But she was here, and she was real, warm, alive and consuming his senses.

She coaxed his head back, and he willed himself to open his eyes, despite the fear that she would see every broken part of him echoed there. _Oh_. She was ravishing. Her hair formed a wild, dark halo around her, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted as she breathed heavily. She rotated her hips, and the motion drew a sultry moan from her. Her eyes locked with his and he could see her fighting to focus on what she was trying to say.

“You, ah!” she gasped as he thrust sharply into her. She sent him a look that he suspected was meant to be scolding, but the effect was completely ruined by the way her skin flushed and her mouth hung open in a bid to catch her breath. But she was nothing if not determined, his lovely wife, and so she wrestled control of herself to finish her sentence.

“You, my husband, my love, my darling, are _not_ alone anymore.”

Her words sunk into him with devastating effect. A shuddering breath racked him. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from her as he blink furiously, studiously ignoring the water that leaked out of the corner of his eye and trailed down his cheek.

Her hand swiped it away, and he realized with a shock that her eyes were also suspiciously watery. She bent down, finally breaking eye contact to kiss him, soft and sweet. He surged forward, grasping the back of her head so he could press fierce, insistent kisses to her mouth, tongue sweeping along her lips. He dropped one hand to her back to push her down hard onto him, making her gasp against his mouth.

They slid back against the bed until his back hit the headboard, and her hand reach out to grip the top of it. With the newfound leverage, their pace grew rushed and sloppy as they slammed against each other, open mouthed kisses becoming little more than shared gasping breaths. His skin felt like it was on fire, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He dropped his head back, thrusting up into her once more before his body surrendered to shuddering pleasure. She trembled against him, lips against his throat.

Aftershocks washed over him, and he could feel every ounce of tension leaving his body. His wife was draped over his chest, breathing hard, and he discovered he couldn’t even summon enough energy into his limbs to wrap his arms around her. He settled for resting his head against the headboard and closing in his eyes, enjoying the weight of her against him.

She whispered something against his chest and he didn’t catch it at first.

“What?” he asked, barely louder. He could feel her inhale deeply against, likely drumming up the energy to speak. She pulled away from him, sending another aftershock coursing through him while also leaving him feeling a little bereft at the loss of her warmth. She cupped his face in her hands, thumbs stroking over his stubbled jaw, that intense gaze back in her eyes.

“Welcome home, Malavai.”

A dam burst inside him, and he was a mess of laughter and tears, and he would have been embarrassed to be in this state, but she was here, still loving him after all these years, and he was _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoot me prompts in the comments and I'll write them when I get the chance.


End file.
